Daisy Coleman's Story: "I Refuse To Be Silenced"

Daisy Coleman, 16, says she was raped two years ago by a popular older boy and her whole life became a nightmare. Now she's speaking out to keep the same thing from happening to other girls.As Told By Brittany Burke.

If there's one thing that can be said about me, it's that I'm a survivor. My brother and I were in a car accident that killed our dad when I was just 9—we climbed out the back window to safety. You'd think after that, I could handle anything, right? After one January night two years ago, I wasn't so sure. I was with my best friend, Paige, watching horror movies and sneaking sips of alcohol. I was texting a popular senior football player, Matt Barnett, who offered to pick us up so we could get together—so around 1 a.m., we snuck out of my house and got in his car. We knew it was wrong, but I thought it was cool that an older guy wanted to hang out. He took us to his house, where he handed me a tall glass of clear liquid and told me it was "the Bitch cup," meaning I was a wimp if I couldn't drink it. I grew up with three brothers, so I'm always ready for a challenge. I tried to drink it all so I would impress him. That's the last thing I remember.

In the morning, my mom found me in my front yard, barely conscious, in just a T-shirt and sweats. I still have no memory of what happened or how I got out there; I must have been outside in 22-degree weather for hours. When my mom got me undressed for a bath to warm me up, she saw that I was red and swollen around my vagina. She immediately took me to the hospital, where doctors confirmed our worst fears—the night before, they said I had been raped. I immediately started crying when I heard that. I had lost my virginity in the worst way imaginable, and I had no recollection of it at all. Later, Paige said she had been raped by a different boy that night.

I tried to keep a low profile at school as the police investigated Matt and his friends. During the investigation, Matt admitted he had sex with me—but he says it was consensual. I don't think it was, but ultimately it came down to my word versus his, and when people sided with him, they attacked me nonstop on Facebook and Twitter because they thought I was lying. They said horrible things, like how I should slit my wrists and kill myself. It was so intense that I started having anxiety issues and panic attacks—I would start shaking uncontrollably and had trouble breathing.

At school, I had a hard time making it through full days. In the halls, people yelled cuss words at me and called me a liar. I thought I could escape by running home and locking myself in my room, but it was even worse there: Any time I would log on to Facebook or Twitter and post a simple status like "I'm tired," people would think I was talking about the case and lash out at me. The hashtag #daisyisaliar showed up everywhere. People I don't even know—college girls related to the boys at Matt's house that night, even some adults who had just heard the story through people in our town—were calling me a bitch, a whore, and a slut every single day. I've never been the sensitive type, but when you hear awful things about yourself everywhere you go, you can start to believe them. I started to wonder if what happened to me was my fault.

Paige's parents pulled her out of school for homeschooling, and we drifted apart. When her case went to juvenile court and her attacker was sentenced, I was happy that she got closure and justice. But I couldn't believe that the charges against Matt in my case were dropped, because the prosecutors said there was "insufficient evidence of a crime." There were moments when I thought I truly wanted to give up. I ended up in the hospital several times for cutting and burning myself, and for attempting suicide. My family even moved to a different town to try to get a fresh start.

Before that January night, there were tons of things I loved to do, like cheerleading, performing on the dance team, and wrestling. But after the rape, I barely had energy to get out of bed, let alone go to school and practices. Eventually, my brothers convinced me to start wrestling again, this time on their team. I was nervous going to practice—it's so hard for me to be close to boys these days. But the coach was supportive, and it's the nicest group of nonjudgmental guys. Because my brothers were on the team, wrestling became a safe, family-like escape from my reality, and slowly I got stronger. I felt like I took back some of the control that I had lost.

One day, it was like a switch flipped inside me. I came home from a meet, sat in my room and thought, Okay, I really don't deserve this abuse. I'm only human, I didn't do anything wrong. I decided right then that I wanted to go back to being a girl who actually enjoyed her life. I just wanted to feel like me again, but I didn't give up hope that I would get justice.

I've heard that assault victims often don't want to be identified by name, but I'm happy for people to see me and to understand that what I went through wasn't okay and it's not okay if it happens to other girls, either. I want the news out there. I'll keep telling my story wherever I can, because it might keep history from repeating itself.

In October, a local newspaper wrote an article about my case, and since then, so many girls have come to me and said that they were raped but they were too scared to tell anyone. They go home at the end of the day and feel like no one will believe them or no one will care. I want other girls to understand that there will always be people who won't believe you, but all it takes is one person to listen, and you'll be able to feel heard.

When the article about my case was published, people started sharing the link with the hashtag #justicefordaisy on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. It was amazing to have my story get attention—but it also felt selfish for the focus to be just on me. More light needs to be shined on all the rape cases that go unheard. What happened to me changed my life forever, but my hope is now that people know my version of what happened, I'll be the last one to go through it.